I know that it was her who should be sad, she just got yelled at by an old lady calling her a whore, but I couldn't help it my life was always spinning, and the only thing untouched by that tornado was Bianca and now she was whipped into that whirl-wind as well.
"You can come inside if you want. My dad isn't home yet."
I grinned at her as I cut the engine, coming out of my thoughts. "You're a dirty-minded little girl, Duffy. It would appear that you're trying to corrupt me."
"You're way past corruption," She assured me.
We got out of the car and walked up the driveway together. She dug the keys out of her purse and unlocked the front door, allowing me to walk inside ahead of her. She watched me as I looked around.
"I like it," I said. Looking back at her. "It's cozy."
"That's nice for small, isn't it?"
"No. I'm serious. It's comfortable. My house is too big, even for four people, and since I'm the only one in it most of the time? I like yours better. Cozy, like I said."
"Thanks."
"Where's your room?" I asked, winking at her.
"I knew that was coming. Now who's corrupting whom?" She took me by the elbow and led me up a small staircase to her room.
"Right here." She gestured to the first door. "I warn you, it's about the size of a Cracker Jack box."
I opened the door and peered inside. Then I looked back at her with my trademark smirk. "We'll have enough room."
"Enough room for what?"
Before she got what I meant I grabbed her by the hips and pushed her into her bedroom. I kicked the door shut behind us, and spun us around, then slammed her against the wall, where we began kissing so hard it was amazing. I needed all of earlier out of my head and Bianca is the only thing that has ever been able to fully do that for me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back once her surprise wore off. I tightened my grip on her waist and shoved her jeans down as low as they could without unbuttoning them. Then I slid my hands under the elastic band of her underwear, rubbing my finger along her hot, wet skin. After a few minutes, I pulled my mouth away, "Bianca, can I ask you something?"
"No," She said quickly, before I even got to ask her. "I am not giving you a blow job. No fucking way. Just the thought of it is disgusting and degrading and? No. Never."
"While that's a little disappointing," I said, "it's not what I was planning to ask you."
"Oh." She blushed a little. "Well, then what?"
I took my hands out of her pants and placed them gently on her shoulders.
"What are you escaping from now?"
"Excuse me?"
"I know your ex-boyfriend left town weeks ago," I said. "But I can tell there is still something bothering you. As much as I'd like to believe it's just me—you can't get enough of—I know there's more to it. What are you running from, Bianca?"
"Nothing."
"Don't lie."
"It's none of your business, okay?" She pushed me away, and yanked her jeans back up. Then knelt down to a pile of cloths on her floor. She started folding them as she said. "Let's just talk about something else."
I sat down on the floor beside her. I was trying to be patient, but she can trust me. I wish she would just let it go. "Fine,"
We talked about school while she folded her clothes. When they were all in neat stacks, she stood up and moved to sit on her bed.
"Aren't you going to put them away?" I asked slightly confused.
"No," She said.
"Then what was the point in folding them?"
She sighed and stretched out on her back, kicking off her Converse.
"I don't know," she admitted, resting her head on the pillow and staring at the ceiling. "I guess it's a habit or whatever. I fold the clothes every night, and it makes me feel better. It's relaxing and it clears my head. Then the next morning, I dig through the stacks for what I'm gonna wear, and they all get messed up, so I get to fold them again that night. Like a cycle."
Her bed creaks as I climb on top of her, wedging myself between her knees.
"You know," I said, looking down at her. "That's pretty strange. Neurotic, really."
"Me?" She laughed. "You're the one who's trying to get in my pants again, like, ten seconds after a failed attempt at a heart-to-heart. I'd say we're both pretty fucked up."
"Very true."
We started kissing again. This time my hands moved up her shirt and unhooked her bra. There wasn't much room in the little twin bed, but I still managed to get her top and jeans off and unzipped in record time. She started to undo my pants, too, but I stopped her.
"No," I said, moving her hand away. "You might not agree with blow jobs, but I have a feeling you'll enjoy this."
She opened her mouth to argue but I stopped her by trailing down her stomach with kisses. My hands began moving her jeans down to her knees, letting one stop to squeeze the ticklish spot above her hip. Causing her to jerk with a giggle. My lips moved lower and lower until they reached their destination. Her fingers curled in the sheets, gripping the cloth tightly, and her knees shook. "Ah,? oh," She gasped with the pleasure I was giving-
"Oh, shit."
I jumped away from her, as I heard a car door slam in the driveway. That meant her dad was home. She pulled up her underwear and fastened her jeans quickly, and I watched with minor amusement as she couldn't find her bra. Once she was completely dressed she flattened her hair, and straightened out all her hastily put on clothing.
"Should I leave?" I asked.
"No," She said breathlessly. I'm glad, I'm sure she could tell I didn't want to go back to the giant mansion. "Stay a little while. It's fine. Dad won't care. We just can't? do that."
"What else is there to do?"
So, like complete losers, we played Scrabble for the next four and a half hours. There was barely enough space on the floor of her tiny room for someone as tall as me to stretch out on my stomach, but I managed, and she sat across from me, the board between us as we spelled out words like quixotic and hegemony. Not exactly the most exciting Friday night, but I enjoyed it way more than I would have if I'd had been with some girl I didn't care about.
After nine, after getting beat multiple times I stood up, "I guess I should go home," I sighed.
"Okay." She stood up. "I'll walk you downstairs."
As we walked down the stairs I smelled the strong smell of whiskey. I was so confused I didn't know what was going on. I looked over at her for some answers but she wasn't looking at me. She was definitely uncomfortable. Although it hasn't been that long since we became close I know her well. There was something wrong, but I didn't know what so I kept my mouth shut.
"Bumblebee!" Her dad said, I could tell he was drunk. I had gone to enough college parties to know that much. The man stumbled to his feet and finally seemed to notice me. "Hey, Bumblebee. I didn't even know you were home. Who's this?" His eyes narrowed at me. "A boy?"
"Um, Dad, this is Wesley Rush," She said. "He's a friend of mine."
"A 'friend.'? I bet." He grabbed the whiskey bottle before taking a few unsteady steps toward us, his eyes squinting at me. "Did you have fun up in my little girl's bedroom, boy?"
"I sure did," I said, trying to sound like one of those innocent oh-gee-whiz! boys from fifties TV shows. "We played three games of Scrabble. Your daughter is really good with words, sir."
"Scrabble? I'm not an idiot. That must be some new code for? for oral sex!" The man snarled.
So this was it, this is what she is running from. Her father? What? Confused doesn't even explain what I was at that moment. She started laughing like it was a joke so I followed her lead, unsure of what to do at that moment.
"Sure, Dad," She said. "And intercourse is Yahtzee, right?"
"I'm not being funny!" He snapped, swinging his bottle and sloshing whiskey onto the carpet. "I know what's up. I've seen the way your slutty friends dress, Bianca. They're rubbing off on you, aren't they?"
I knew this is where it stopped Bianca is nothing but loyal to her friends I learned that already.
"My friends aren't slutty," She whispered. "You're drunk off your ass, and you don't know what you're saying." She reached forward and swiped the bottle from his hand. "You shouldn't have any more, Dad."
I didn't know what I should do, but I knew one thing for sure, Bianca is a very closed off person once the shock is gone she will be embarrased, and I won't know what to do.
"I should go," I said behind her.
She started to turn around to walk me out the door but before she was turned around I saw her dad lunge forward. Before I processed what had happened Bianca was on the floor with the bottle broken on the floor next to her and she had a stunned look on her face.
"See!" Dad yelled. "Boys don't stay with whores, Bianca. They leave them. And I'm not going to let you turn into a whore. Not my daughter. This is for your own good."
I turned and saw her father, the man who should love her unconditionally just standing there and I lost it. I hated this man I hardly even knew. I hated him even more than my grandma, more than anyone in the world. I looked up as he reached a hand down to grab her arm. She squeezed her eyes shut. I took a step forward and then punched him straight in the face. Wow, that really did hurt but I couldn't even think about that, all there was was red hot anger, and hatred, and worry because Bianca was still on the floor.
"Why you little shithead!"
"Are you alright?" I asked, kneeling in front of Bianca.
"Did you just punch my dad?" She almost screamed.
"Yes," I admitted.
"How dare you touch me!" Her dad screamed, but he was having trouble balancing enough to approach us again. "How dare you fuck my daughter, then hit me, you son of a bitch!"
"Come on," I said helping her to her feet, knowing we couldn't stay here any longer. "Let's get out of here. You're coming with me." I didn't ask I told. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to me, and then ushered her out the open door to my car.
"Bianca!" Her dad yelled behind us. "You better not get in that damn car! You better not leave this house! You hear me, you little whore!"
